Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Nothing Says Fun like Taking the Twins to a Taffy Pull

My mammogram went as expected; I got naked, felt up, pressed into a medieval torture high-tech device and pretty pictures were taken.

One thing I didn’t expect was actually getting to see the pictures as that isn’t something that I was allowed to do last year. For the record, my boobs? Clear as a bell. At least, as far as I could tell utilizing my crack medical degree from Google Medical University.

And, while I need to wait for the official thumbs up from my gynecologist, I’m relatively confident that I am healthy (although, I do realize that making a statement like that is just begs Fate to screw me over. Sorry, Fate! I didn’t mean it! Please don’t strike me down with the boob cancer, k! Thkx!).

So, in the past month I have had my gums scraped, the depths of my girlie bits plumbed with something resembling a mascara wand and my breasts smashed into road kill. A sane person might space these types of exams out a bit over the course of the year but; I like to schedule my field trips all in December so that I can look forward to starting the year fresh, without having to lie back and relax, swish and spit or hold my breath for ten seconds while shooting a PG rated boob film for an entire twelve months.

(Ok, PG-13; my boobs may have been sandwiched between Lucite plates but they are still worthy of a PG-13 rating.)

No more exams until December 2010; barring any unfortunate snafus, obviously.

Fate, I’m looking at you.

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